Hike along Shropshire Way for a great pub

The plan’s simple: a two-day hike between railway stations, lodging at an inn in the middle. Pack light—just clothes, lunch, water. Not a circular route; I want a direct trek through stunning landscapes, ending by a cozy fire and a pub with pristine ale taps.

Sophie prefers a relaxed approach. “We want a great weekend walk, not a survival test,” she says.

I quietly set aside notes; a 1,500-meter ascent seems improbable.

“Let’s cap it at 12 miles a day,” she suggests. “Gentle slopes, good weather.”

Finding the right spot is tricky. Many rural UK railway lines lack stations (around 9,000 once existed, now barely a third remain). The York to Scarborough line, once 42 miles with 17 stations, now has only two.

Pubs have suffered more closures. Around 50 shut each month in 2022, impacting communities. Supporting these vital rural establishments matters if I find the right hike.

I opt for a railway line with stations, including “request stops.” The Heart of Wales line from Shrewsbury to Swansea spans 121 miles, offering 32 departure points. Its existence shows local determination and political significance. There’s a footpath following parts of it, great for weekend trips.

Focusing on the eastern end for a practical weekend journey from major cities.

We start at Shrewsbury, get off at Craven Arms—on the Shropshire Way. A 200-mile trail shaped like a figure-eight with Shrewsbury at its center; we take the southern loop. In a drizzle, we head west following “buzzard” markers, through fields and into Withins Wood, home to an Iron Age hill fort.

Rain momentarily stops, sun peeks through creating a mist. It’s the kind of moment where “Tolkienesque” comes to mind but luckily, rain returns, sparing us the cliché.

We glimpse Clun Castle through clouds. Clun, significant for centuries, now has two pubs (down from 14), still more than similar-sized places. Eadric the Wild’s territory, where history met a supernatural enchantress in misty woods.

AE Housman called Clun “the quietest place under the sun.” True; we stroll the street, meeting only a local who directs us to the pub, highlighting the town’s doorknockers.

We arrive at the White Horse Inn, a warm spot for our stay, slightly damp from the rain.

Next morning, rain stops; we cross the 13th-century packhorse bridge to St. George’s Church, where playwright John Osborne rests. Back to the castle, remnants of Owain Glyndŵr’s siege in the 1400s are visible.

On the Shropshire Way, we cross fields, ascend a scenic ridge toward Welsh hills. Meadows boast vibrant waxcap mushrooms; trees weathered by winds. It’s a breathtaking upland walk, almost like a journey back in time. “I asked for gentle slopes and good weather,” Sophie says, “but I’m loving it.”